


oh these webs

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consensual Mind Control, F/F, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mind Control, Multi, Past Mind Control, Quadrant Vacillation, Threesome - F/F/F, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Jane's working on what she's into, which makes life hard for Feferi and interesting for Vriska.Or vice versa, depending on who you're talking to.Either way, she's got a lot of things she'd like to try and she knowsexactlywho she'd like to try them with.





	oh these webs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmofex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmofex/gifts).

"No." 

"I haven't even _asked_ for anything yet."

"You don't have to. I'm a mind reader. I read minds. It's what I do."

"You _control_ people using your _mind control_. There's a difference! They're two entirely separate categories of powers!"

"And I don't actually need to be able to read your mind to know what you want, Crocker," Vriska says, spinning around in her chair. You bite down a giggle from where you're sprawled across the couch, watching Jane attempt to use the height differential to her advantage. Even sitting, Vriska's got a good two inches on her, but Jane _projects_ tall in a way that only a seadweller could.

Or maybe you're a little biased! You shore as shit don't think _Eridan_ manages to project height on the daily, but he's getting a handle on it. No, actually, wait, you're not biased, but you'll have to track down that paper Jade sent you—

"—which is why it's _stupid_ to be saying no without even considering—"

"—your massive kink for mind control?" Vriska's already facing her desk again (whoops, gotta stay focused here, Peixes) and from the wrinkle on her forehead, her latest character profile's giving her more trouble than usual. "I've considered it, and the answer is: Fuck off, Crocker, I'm _busy_."

Jane stamps her foot. It's so cute when she gets _this_ worked up, even if you probably won't tell her that until the next time you feel like a pitch flip. "You wouldn't even have to move!"

Uh oh. Vriska's interest has risen by about 200%, which is clear to both you (potential victim) and Jane (evil mastermind). "Alright then," she says, spinning back around to face Jane. You do your best impression of a happy little sofa cushion. Totally invisible. No, wait, you'll be a cuttlefish. Those guys have the _best_ camouflage. "What did you have in mind?"

Your cuttlefish impression seems to be lacking, because Jane's eyes slide right on over to you and stay there. Vriska's follow, and then she's smirking, and you are having _so_ many regrets. "Hi, Feferi!"

"...hi, Jane."

"Good start, Crocker. Still not enough, though."

"Consider it a little bit of background theater to keep those old creative juices flowing! You like seeing the way Feferi reacts to a fellow heiress, don't you?" Jane sounds smug. You, however, are ducking down behind a pillow with a pink flush in your fins. It's not like it's _intentional_ or anything, it's basic seadweller biology, and for her to take advantage of it just to get Vriska worked up is stupid unfair. "Think about this. If you're controlling me while I'm getting to her, then you're the one who's getting all of those nice little _challenges_ out of her! Without even having to lift a finger."

"I hate you both," you say, and it's muffled against the pillow you grabbed. Even the fact that it's an exceedingly cute one (happy shark patterned) can't save you now. "You're the absolute _worst_."

"Save it, Peixes," says Vriska, and you can see the blue as her eyes start to glow. Fucking shit hell damn.

* * *

Your name is Vriska Serket and you are totally winning at life. Not only do you have _two_ hot girlfriends, but right now, you're watching one of them work the other open like the gorgeous little present she is. Feferi had agreed—in poor taste, and a grumpy manner—to let Jane tie up her wrists before anything got started. Annoyed though she might be by the two of you and your scheming, Feferi knows you know what she likes, and that taste of victory is so _sweet_, watching her give in even while she grumps about it.

Now if only you could get her to agree to let you fuck around in her head a bit, that would be fucking _perfect_.

But, right, you're busy—you've got an entire backstory to write and it doesn't matter that you're allowed in _Jane's_ head—Jane, all those pathways marked out so nice and easy, all that witchery and fuckshit of the tiaratop laying down lines of control. Tugging on them is simplicity itself, but you enjoy blazing your own paths, shifting through the parts of her head that are as of yet untraversed by other trolls with mind powers, and—ffffuck okay she's got Feferi's bulge out, you need to focus on that—

On your _work_.

A quick tug, and Jane topples forward, catching herself on Feferi's shoulders in a movement that has her hips (gorgeous, beautiful hips) right over Feferi's bulge. Whoops. Down she goes!

The moan from that beautiful picture you're painting is almost—_almost_—enough to distract you, but you are a master of your art! Strict with your own mind! Brilliant at what you do!

And besides, you can twine yourself through Jane's thoughts, guide her into rolling her hips juuuuust right, into making the closest vocal approximation a human can handle to a challenge call. Feferi snarls, her bulge thrashing and her hips bucking up hard, caught up in the moment by a tyrian's natural instinct, twisting and writhing with a flush of fuchsia she can't even seem to control.

—and there goes another pen. Snapped in two so hard the blue ink went all over your fingers, and, damn, you wouldn't mind if it was another color. Or. Something.

For a moment or two, you let yourself stare at them, considering how easy it would be to jump in there, to make them bend to your will—Jane's already there, Feferi's so _desperate_ for a true fight—and then you remind yourself that you are _the_ point leader of your FLARPing league (_this_ week) and you need to get this piece done tonight. Besides, you've got a couple of other pens in your sylladex, and it isn't too much trouble to grab one of those while you're _also_ directing Jane to start fondling Feferi's rumblespheres. You think you'll get Jane's in Feferi's mouth next. See some of that crimson color stained on those shark-sharp fangs. See—

—_the character sheet before you_, practically demanding your attention. You are _known_ for your skills in this, lazier trolls have paid you to take over some of the duties they find "tedious" (ingrates and imbeciles, you've never _directly_ gone after a good source of money but you sure as shit have _arranged_ some of the many irons in your fire to make their lives more interesting), and you are so good at what you do that it is simple to stroke over the token resistance Jane puts up until it's nothing but a quiet purr.

Her first whimper of _I don't want to_ circles around the rumblesphere (breast? Damn squishy humans) you're having her settle against Feferi's face, and it's laced with a _oh fuck I remember last time_, and you're pretty sure she also remembers _pailing_ from the last time a troll got ahold of one of those things. Jane, you're reasonably sure, has a danger kink. That or you've inadvertently given her one via sweeps of dating.

No, wait. She's also dating Feferi. Definitely has a danger kink.

You scribble a couple more thoughts into your character's information box, then consider how worthwhile it would be to falsify a calendar. If nothing else, it might make for more depth in your latest plot line, and—

Jane finishes so hard your bulge spills out into your favorite pajama pants. You swear under your breath, regretting your decision to sacrifice aesthetic for comfort, and shove out of your chair. Feferi, still bound, stilll sprawled out under Jane, looks _smug_, smugger than she has any right to, with just a hint of haziness to show how into this she herself is. You're damn sure her bulge is still thrashing inside Jane's nook (for one, you can feel it, for two, the human version of your pretty little heiress won't stop her whimpers), and you're equally sure Peixes has tipped a little pitch for you and made this a _challenge_.

Fuck it. You can finish that character sheet anther night.

"Keep moving," you order Jane, and your eyes glow blue. Feferi's go wide, and you know it's because she's caught on: Whatever else you're telling Jane, Feferi won't be able to hear it unless you decide to let her.

In fact...

"Sh—she's—"

"Spit it out, Jane," you croon, spreading Feferi's thighs apart a little bit more so you can inspect her bright pink nook. Aw, cute. It's _already_ leaking slurry. Poor thing must be aching for something warm down there. Your pants are ruined (for now, you'll do a proper wash and they'll be fine), so you don't feel bad about tossing those in a heap with your shirt and their long-abandoned clothes. "Just like I told you."

"She's going to make me tell you everything she's making me do," Jane finally manages to gasp out. She's still obeying your first spoken order, desperately rutting her hips against Feferi even as it draws her into another orgasm (you think this might be her second or third, and you'll have to do something to punish her for being selfish, poor sweet Feferi hasn't even gotten off once), and you grin at the sight of all that tyrian-splattered skin. "I—I'm supposed to cover your gills?"

Feferi's eyes go _wide_. "Serket, you wouldn't—"

"Oh, try me." You pass Jane up some of that gill tape you'd stashed (and you _know_ it's safe, Ampora puts that shit on when he's going into smoke-heavy zones; even if he'd get self-sacrificing with himself he wouldn't with her, and he'd hurried to tell you exactly how to use it when you expressed your concerns about Feferi), and Feferi starts actively struggling. It's cute, how she thinks she stands a chance. So cute you _have_ to hitch her thighs up over your shoulders and shove your bulge down into her nook.

Her scream is muffled ("She wants me to cover your mouth, too—") and you watch the shudders of her body as her mind tries to cope with all of the pleasure-pain you're giving her. Feferi Peixes lost in the feeling of pailing is a beautiful thing to behold. Underneath the tape (and you had timed it _just_ right, just waiting until after Jane had applied it all) you can see the barest hint of ripples as her gills desperately strain.

Heavens help you, you think you're going to develop a kink from this.

Your bulge—and you spent actual _sweeps_ perfecting this, you're an excellent pail and proud of it—curls its way into a ripple-flick motion that has Feferi bucking up into Jane and _oh_ if that isn't the sweetest chain reaction ever. You can see Jane's mind, laid out before you like ripe fruit, each section ready to be picked and plucked and absolutely devoured, and you can see, in some tiny corner (you think she enjoys the dance, the tucking away, the finding her true feelings then trying to hide all over again) how _close_ she is to another orgasm.

You're a benevolent sort.

And it doesn't take much to reach out—mentally—and, well.

Push.

* * *

About half an hour later, Jane is cleaned and curled up between you and only pouting a little bit. Feferi is unconscious (she'd been absolutely useless, you'd had to do _all_ the dirty work yourself, and you're starting to consider recruiting an actual crew just to keep up with the demands these two place on your free time), and you'd have a go at waking her up for post-fuck-pillow-talk, but given the way she'd shoved her face against Jane's shoulder and passed out, you think you'd have a not-so-amusing fight on your hands.

"So," you say, looking at Jane, who looks back at you. She's got this cute little thing she does with her lip whenever she's having a sulk or someone's put her in a huff. "Spot on with the massive kink for mind control?"

"...possibly! Just a little bit!"

"Ah, well," you say, sage as you can manage to sound without cracking up laughing, "I really should've been expecting this. You tyrians and your kinks."

Jane, you're pretty sure, makes an actual attempt at killing you, but the attempt (fortunately) happens to wake up Feferi, who decides that everyone needs to shut up and let her sleep, and if she has to lie on top of the both of you to make that happen, she will.

She _does_, and you're just grateful that you'd packed a spare husktop in your sylladex, because Pyrope is going to be _such_ a bitch about it if you don't get that character profile written.

* * *

Your name is Feferi Peixes, and you're really the one who suffers the most out of all of these horny bitches, and the next time they try to tell anyone otherwise you are _really_ going to have some words.

You're also going to find a better hiding spot. Eventually.

Maybe you'll just...see where their next few ideas go first.

* * *

(Your name is Jane Crocker, and you're starting to think that...maybe liking all the things you do is going to be fun, and also, okay.)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY DRONE SEASON! Saw this one and HAD to go for it


End file.
